221B Mornings
by JasNutter
Summary: A series of mornings at 221B. Married domesticity of the eccentric kind.


"John", Sherlock breathed into his neck. It tickled and John squirmed against the lean, overheated body pressed against his own. He could_ really_ use that extra hour of sleep.

"Not now, Sherlock."

Sherlock imperviously wriggled closer and pressed some more. "_John. Please." _

"I'm tired, you great lug."

Sherlock sighed into his hair and proceeded to hook one leg over his hip, and then he was climbing over John. There was a moment while they both grunted and shifted and (in John's case) huffed in annoyance until Sherlock found himself positioned very agreeably, his needy arse pressed against John's inactive crotch.

Disappointingly inactive. He frowned and kept up his determined wriggling. His lover snored in response, ardor soft as ever and Sherlock ceased the wriggling and thoughtfully accessed the situation, thinking up in his lust ridden mind the quickest possible path for John's prick up his arse while mildly rutting against the mattress.

After about three seconds of accessing, his mind – more lust ridden than ever – had cheerfully arrived and his body was even more cheerfully skimming down John's naked one, tracing a trail with his tongue against the salty smoothness. He kissed a hip bone, grazed a random scar, nipped one thigh and nipped the other, happily took note of the much loved cock (now half hard), and proceeded to take it in his mouth, sucked, and was instantly vastly rewarded.

He grinned and purred around John's cock as one rough hand came to weave into his curls, licking a long strip to the head and flicking his tongue over the glistening silt. John groaned sleepily in appreciation and then grunted in disappointment as the heat of his sweetheart's lovely mouth left his cock and travelled up to his ear, biting at his ear lobe.

"I prepared myself", Sherlock's whisper came as warm air into his ear, making him shiver. "Please, John. Please."

John's treacherous body joined in with Sherlock's hot pleading, cock straining with the additional rush of blood, suddenly desperate to be nestled inside Sherlock tight body.

Sherlock fingers traveled lightly around his chest, brushing a nipple and eliciting a shudder. "Take me, John", he whispered filthily. "Please. Please."

Tiredness be damned. John Watson, ready as he would ever be for a good shagging, flipped his lascivious love over and pinned him down onto the mattress, springs creaking at the rough movement,kissing his way down the creamy back. He groped around for the lube which Sherlock roughly trusted into his palm, pressing his succulent rump against John's eager erection, moaning deliciously. John, fumbling in his haste, managed to coat his erection without spilling the lube, and align himself against Sherlock's glistening opening, tip grazing Sherlock lightly.

"Oh god, John, don't dawdle, will you. Get on with – Aah!"

John watched Sherlock's spine arch in one beautiful motion as John pushed into his tight ring of muscles, fingers digging into his hips as the tight, contracting heat took him in. He moved back and thrust up, cursing, his moan mingling with Sherlock's keening.

"John", he gasped. "Harder."

John didn't hesitate to oblige, slamming into the delectable arse again, a jolt of heat blossoming at the pit of his stomach. The springs squeaked louder as they moved, panting and swearing (in John's case), and sighing and moaning (in Sherlock's case), the bed post Sherlock was now gripping repeatedly knocking against the wall.

"John, John, Oh yesss", Sherlock threw his head back as John hit his prostate. "There. Right there. _Ooh_." He pushed back, spikes of pleasure growing as one of John's calloused, strong hands wrapped around his dripping cock and tugged, jerking him off roughly. Sherlock's chin rammed into his chest, trying to watch John work him, while trying to get more of his cock, his mouth hanging open. Sweat dripped off John's forehead, mingling with the sweat on Sherlock's gleaming back, and his stomach tightened.

"Sherlock", he groaned, roughly ramming into Sherlock repeatedly, bracing himself on the bed with one hand, thighs burning with the exertion. "I'm so fucking close." He twisted his hand expertly on Sherlock's throbbing prick, and that was all it took for Sherlock was then shuddering and gasping, moaning deep and high, coating John's fingers while his arse clenched around John, who followed with a yell, coming hotly into Sherlock's hole, face screwing up in ecstasy.

"Ah fuck", John groaned, panting and collapsing on top of Sherlock, who pushed him off on to his back and wrapped an arm around his sticky chest, fluffy head coming to rest on his shoulder. Thoroughly sated, he dropped a kiss onto his temple and pulled him close, settling in for a doze before officially starting the day. Sherlock skated a finger through his sweaty stomach lightly.

"John", he said to John's collarbone, and kissed it when he went ignored.

"John", he said again, lightly nuzzling the collar bone.

"John".

"Not now, Sherlock", John drowsily said.

"Tea, please. John?"

There was a pause.

"Tea. John. Please."

So much for that another hour of sleep.

* * *

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